


The Ride of the Von Zinzers

by Sturzkampf



Series: The Trials of Moloch von Zinzer [9]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Electric Wheels, Gen, Inspired by Music, Inspired by a Movie, Originally Posted Elsewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 01:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sturzkampf/pseuds/Sturzkampf
Summary: Moloch von Zinzer has his Revenge!





	The Ride of the Von Zinzers

 “So this is it then,” declared Violetta. “We’re all going to die.”

“Yah, looks like it Sveethot,” Dimo told her happily, as though she had just suggested that they were all going down the pub. Violetta and the Boyz were standing in the middle of the desolate valley of Hamongog on a small hillock, little more than a slight rise in the ground; a defensible position that wasn’t quite as wet and muddy as the surrounding terrain. It gave them a fine appreciation of their tactical situation, which was not, by any stretch of the imagination, good. The army of enemies surrounding them were slowly closing in. It wasn’t that large an army, and after its first attack not all of it was still alive, but it was still too large for three Jägers and a Smoke Knight to take on alone. If the next wave didn’t get them the one after that would; or the one after that.

“Hey wait!” cried Maxim, “Hy can hear music!”

“Ja, me too!” exclaimed Oggie.

Dimo laughed as though he’d heard a good joke. “Ha! Better and better!”

“Why is this good?” asked Violetta, suspiciously.

“Vell Sveethot, dey seys dot ven uz Jägers die dere iz dese beeg…” Dimo made the appropriate hand gesture – “wimmen vit de really fancy hats vit horns dot come down on de flyink horses und teks hyu to de Jäger Hall vor de eternity ov fightink und drinkink. Und vhile dey does it dey sings a lot. So ven hyu hears de music at a time like diz hyu know iz time to die gloriously und hyu vill be shure ov a place in de Halls.”

“Oh that’s nice,” said Violetta without enthusiasm. “Hey wait! I can hear music too!” She was almost knocked flat on her face when Dimo slapped her on the back.

“Voho! Iv hyu hears de music den dot means dot hyu must be comink to de Jägerhalls vit us, Sveethot!”

“Oh marvellous! Simply bloody marvellous!” Violetta’s shoulders sagged despondently. Her idea of the afterlife, if she had thought about it at all, contained rather less Jägers, drinking and fighting and rather more parties, pretty dresses, dancing with handsome boys and possibly riding little ponies.

Then, in the distance, she saw a light in the sky coming towards them… A line of lights in the sky… A line of lights in the sky playing Wagner…   

\---------*

_Two hours previously…_

Moloch von Zinzer, Florence, Saana Tryggvassen and Moxalina Snaug watched the gas bag of their dirigible slowly deflate. Fortunately, they were standing on solid ground, rather than still in the gondola and a thousand metres up, but even so, it was a somewhat dispiriting sight. Their mood wasn’t helped by the complete absence of all the other aerostats and aerodynes that were supposed to be making up the rest of the Heterodyne invasion fleet. When they had dropped out of the clouds on their final descent all they saw was the enemy army waiting patiently for their arrival. Although their opponents could have blown the airship from the sky, they put only a single rocket-propelled spear through the gas bag – enough to bring it down, but not enough to damage it so much that it would not be able to land safely. They knew that the ship was an unarmed transport, bringing the heavy weapons and the ~~minions~~ mechanics to assemble them down to the Heterodyne’s forces and they wanted to capture such a valuable resource intact. Fortunately, Florence had been flying and with considerable skill she managed to get the dirigible back up into the cover of the low cloud using the engines on full upward thrust and then fly them several miles away before they lost all positive buoyancy and came down to a soft(ish) landing. The four crew had evacuated the ship in case of fire and now they stood in the rain looking at the wreck, wondered what to do next.

\-------------------------------*

The destruction of the Refuge of Storms had sent a shock wave through the Sparks of Europa. It wasn’t the destruction that had caused such consternation. It was quite in the order of things that a Spark, particularly a Spark such as the Heterodyne, would respond with overwhelming force to an attack on her Lair to crush her enemy and show them! Show them all!! No, it was the manner of the destruction that put cold fear into the hearts of the great Sparks of Europa. There had been no unstoppable army of abominations of science, no giant clanks, no doomsday weapons, no monsters, not even any orbital death rays. The Refuge and the mountain containing it had simply been destroyed, smashed and obliterated without warning and without pity. It was the lack of any visible mechanism that scared everyone so; the knowledge that the Heterodyne could reach across a hundred miles to wreak total destruction in the blink of an eye and they had no means to stop her, because no-one had any idea how she could do it.

The fact that Agatha denied all knowledge of the attack and declared that it must have been some unpredictable side-effect of the Villains’ collusion with the Powers of Darkness combined with shockingly lax safety procedures only made it worse. Everyone knew that she was responsible and the stronger her denials the more they were convinced. Now whenever she talked with rival Sparks, even her friends like Baron Wulfenbach or King Tarvek, Agatha noticed an increased respect in their manner and a little fear in their eyes. Although she would never admit it, she rather liked that.

As always seems to be the case in Heterodyne stories, even though the Lair of her Enemy had been soundly crushed, the chief antagonist had escaped destruction. The Pope, who should have been back at the Refuge of Storms when it was destroyed, had been stuck on a train at the St Kenelm’s Pass, due to his malicious disruption of the Cobettite timetable bringing the entire system to a halt for the first time since the Great Imploding Rhinoceros Disaster of ’97. Witnessing the power of the Heterodyne at first hand he had fled back to his Secret Lair in the remote Valley of Hamongog, the seat of his power, to plan his Revenge for the Revenge the Heterodyne had wrought on him for the Revenge he and the late false storm King had wrought on Mechanicsburg in Revenge for the Heterodyne foiling Martellus’ plans to become the new Storm King. Meanwhile, The Heterodyne was preparing her Revenge on the Pope, and had assembled an airborne assault force to wreak havoc upon him in his Secret Lair. She had encountered an early set-back when she realised that she had no idea where the Secret Lair was. Fortunately, she had a willing ally in The Wulfenbach Empire, specifically her boyfriend, Baron Gilgamesh Wulfenbach. His spy network was more than capable of passing on the location of the Pope’s Secret Lair – indeed, it was information the Empire had known for many years, from the time of Klaus, who always knew everything about everybody.

Gil and his Empire were more than ready to see the stain of this particular Pope wiped from the face of Europa once and for all. The Pope was the latest in a long tradition of evil priests who had taken a religion that could be summarised by ‘how great it would be to be nice to people for a change’ and from it forged a system of tyranny, oppression and despair that was the envy of many of the Greater Devils. Of course, the Pope and his predecessors hadn’t done it all themselves, Unbeknown to the world (and the envious denizens of Hell), they had help; help that even now lurked in the darkness at the heart of the Pope’s Secret lair in the desolate Valley of Hamongog.

Unfortunately for Baron Wulfenbach, international politics meant that he could not send his forces to help permanently crush the Pope without destabilising the new _Pax Transylvania_. However, a little discrete discreet exchange of information with Mechanicsburg was perfectly acceptable. So that the Empire could maintain deniability in the face of accusations by all the other Popes, the information was sent in encrypted form to the ships of the Heterodyne fleet only when they were in the air.

And then disaster! There was a traitor in the very heart of the Wulfenbach Empire – Herr Yrwyddfa, an intelligence operative under the Evil Influence of the Pope. A man who had been abused by his priests as a child and then imbued with the guilt and fear of damnation for his sins to make him their willing puppet for the rest of his life. His job it was to send the encrypted messages and he had taken the opportunity to send the wrong coordinates, scattering the columns of the Heterodyne fleet to different locations, so even now Agatha looked down in fury at a huge expanse of marshy wasteland, only inhabited by a few impoverished and cowed peasants, scratching out a living from the ground using methods they had not been allowed to improve since the Dark Ages. The other columns of the Fleet were presumably looking down through the rain at similar vistas devoid of any useful targets.

Of course, the Baron discovered this minion’s treason almost immediately, but Herr Yrwyddfa had taken the precaution of encrypting all the information aboard Castle Wulfenbach about the Secret Lair’s location. With the assurance of the true fanatic he defied the Baron to his face and declared that he would never reveal the decryption codes. The Baron summoned Mistress Spüdna, his spy mistress and interrogation expert, but he knew that a traitor conditioned by a Pope would be a near-impossible challenge, even for her.

Not all the fleet had been sent the wrong co-ordinates of course. Herr Yrwyddfa knew that it would please the Pope if the crack team sent to reconnoitre and secure the landing of the main invasion force should arrive at the correct rendezvous point at the Pope’s citadel – with a suitable reception. They were bound to be personal friends of the Heterodyne, and it would amuse the Pope to show her the Heretics being tortured and burned in the best traditions of his Church. The other arm of the invasion sent the correct co-ordinates had been the transport airship carrying the heavy weaponry of the Heterodyne’s army – a pleasing gift of new tech for the Pope to analyse and improve upon. So, as a result, Violetta and the Boyz were standing on a hilltop surrounded by the Pope’s army, while Moloch and his crew were sitting five miles away in a bog, wondering where everyone else had got to. The entire operation was rapidly turning into the biggest debacle since the Argentinians invaded Tiny Monster Island.

_Editor’s note: The full story of the Argentinian invasion can be found in Chapter 3 of ‘History’s Funniest Military Disasters’, Teerstadt University Press. Despite their humiliation, the Argentinians maintain a claim to ownership of Tiny Monster Island, on the somewhat dubious premise that the Argentine Secretary of Defence’s Brother-in-Law once left a 5-leu piece there while visiting as a tourist. Properties in Mechanicsburg with a good view of the island are currently selling at a premium, in expectation of another invasion._

\----------------------*

 “At least we came down in a bog,” said Snaug “Nice and soft to crash land on.”

“And this constant drizzle soaking everything means we don’t have to worry about fire,” added Saana. “Pretty lucky.”

“Not really. Most of this land is bog, and it rains a lot.” Florence immediately regretted saying that. She could smell that both of her female colleagues were scared and knew they needed all the moral support they could get. They were stranded, alone with a cruel and ruthless enemy only a few miles away, who was doubtless even now sending out armed patrols to capture them and their cargo. Everyone knew how much the Pope hated women. Death would probably be preferable to capture.   

But Moloch seemed unconcerned. He stood looking in the direction of the Valley of Hamongog, a picture of calm serenity. Given Moloch’s reputation for screaming in the face of adversity, Saana and Snaug took comfort from his self-possession. Clearly there was nothing to be afraid of. If Moloch was not scared then everything was under control and this must all be part of the Mistress’ Master Plan.

Florence looked at Moloch, standing there so calm and was filled with concern, though not for herself. Ever since the death of their daughter, she had watched the man she had married wither away before her eyes. Physically, he was still the same; still a dedicated worker, still a good sprinter, still getting a little tubby around the middle. No, it was the person within that was no longer there, as though some vital Spark had locked itself away deep inside. She’d mentioned it to Lady Heterodyne and to King Tarvek and to please her, both had ‘had a word’ to ask him what was wrong. Moloch had looked them in the eye and told them that nothing was wrong. Yes, he was sad about the death of his daughter but he was getting over it and concentrating on his work, so thanks for the concern, ‘but really, I’m fine’. And Agatha and Tarvek had taken him at his word and told Florence ‘really, he’s fine’. Agatha had even said that she thought von Zinzer was better adjusted now than when she had first known him. He used to be so stressed all the time and make such a fuss about every little thing. Lately, he’d been so much calmer and taken minor unpredictable side-effects and unforeseeable freak accidents in his stride.

But a wife knows. The fact that her husband didn’t wake up screaming in the night after assisting the Mistress with her cutting-edge Science told her that there was something wrong, that the man she married had retreated into the depths of himself and all she had left was the shell, like the cognitive engine of some primitive clank that moved and did what it was told and replied when you talked to it, but wasn’t really alive at all. She walked over to Moloch and gave him a hug. He turned to her and gave her an automaton’s smile.

“Is there a way I can find you?” she asked herself. “Is there a sign I should know? Is there a road I could follow to bring you back home?”

“We’ve got an airship full of weapons here. Is there anything that we can use ourselves?” Snaug’s question brought Florence back to the immediate problem.

“What, fight? Against all that lot? I suppose we could grab an M41A each and die gloriously fighting for the Heterodyne.”

“Think we should save the last bullet for ourselves?”

“Bugger that,” retorted Saana. “I’m taking as many of them with me as I can.”

“There’s the Definite Kill Canon,” suggested Snaug hopefully.

“I’m not sure how much we can trust him to fight against a bunch of religious fanatics,” replied Florence. “Anyway, I had quite enough problems with that wretched Mechanical Cleric.”

“I’m sure the Mistress will have a spare Death Ray or two.”

“I’m sure she has. Fancy using them?”

They considered Agatha Heterodyne’s Death Rays.

“Perhaps we could hand them out to the Enemy and wait for them to blow themselves up.”

“We could always use the Electric Wheels,” suggested Moloch, speaking for the first time since they had landed. The three ladies all turned to stare at him in open-mouthed amazement.

“The Electric Wheels,” said Saana carefully. “I thought the Mistress had ordered them locked in the Black Vault and not to be used under any circumstances whatsoever without her permission.”

“Yeah, that’s right, but they were included on the manifest for the equipment she ordered us to bring.”

“Er… are you quite sure about that dear?” asked Florence.

“Sure. Look here.” Moloch produced a crumpled and much folded piece of paper from an inside pocket and handed it to his wife. She scanned through the list.

“I don’t see them anywhere.” Saana and Snaug looked at each other and shuffled their feet uneasily. They knew how much the Mistress wanted to dissociate herself from the excesses of the Old Masters. To go against her wishes on a subject like this was definitely not a good idea. Even the Jägers were frightened of the Electric Wheels.

“Look at the bottom,” Moloch assured them. “After all the specific bits of kit it says, ‘anything else you think will be necessary for the completion of the mission’. So, I brought the Electric Wheels.”

“And you thought we would need them because…?”

Moloch shrugged, unconcerned. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“But how did you get access to the Black Vault?”

“I asked the Castle and it opened the door for me. It’s been wanting to dust these things off for years.”

“Phew! That’s all right then. Let’s get them out and set up.” All the minions relaxed and set to work.

\----------------------------*

Meanwhile, far away on Castle Wulfenbach, Gilgamesh Wulfenbach arrived at the interrogation chamber. The enormous, multiple sound-proof doors slid open and Mistress Spüdna emerged, removing a pair of sound-cancelling ear protectors, the sort worn by the engineers working around the Castle’s gigantic engines. From behind her came the despairing tortured screams of a mind pushed beyond the limits of human endurance. Gil’s entourage all paled at the terrible sound. Then, mercifully, the sound-proof doors closed behind the Baron’s spy mistress. She held out a piece of paper.

“Good news, Herr Baron. Herr Yrwyddfa has talked. We know the true location of the Pope’s Secret Lair.” Gil turned to a messenger. “Take these co-ordinates to the communications centre at once and have them transmitted to the Heterodyne fleet.”

“At once Herr Baron!” The girl took the paper and sped away on her unicycle.

“And tell them God speed,” he called after her, with deliberate irony. He turned back to Spüdna.

“What did you do to him to make him talk?”

“Simple Herr Baron! We strapped him into The Comfy Chair and played ‘It’s a Small World’ on a continuous loop – with a clank in full costume doing the dance and encouraging him to sing along - until he agreed to co-operate.”

 “You fiend!” Gil gasped in horror. “You sick, twisted fiend!!”

Mistress Spüdna simpered with pleasure like a little girl. “Why Herr Baron! Thank you!” Gil looked at her with a mixture of awe and disgust.

“Thank God you’re on our side. But, Yrwyddfa has given us the information. Why are you still torturing him?”

“My dear Baron, what kind of people do you think we are? Of course we’ve stopped torturing him now we have all the information. It’s just that he hasn’t stopped screaming yet.” She shook her head sadly. “The fool. He was so stubborn. He held out for hours. Very impressive, but _everybody_ talks in the end. It was irrational to resist until his mind was totally destroyed. If he had only been reasonable it would have been so much easier for everyone. Now, I’m afraid it would be the kindest thing to kill him.”

“Hm,” Gil considered. “Yes, it would, wouldn’t it? But that would be far too good for him. No. Keep him alive in a secure cell in medical bay 7. We’ll include him in the induction course for new recruits to the Castle. He’ll make a good example of how the Wulfenbach Empire treats traitors.”

“An excellent plan, Herr Baron,” said Spüdna with a spiky-toothed grin of approval. “Your father will be proud of you.”

“I do try.” Gil turned to go, but then had a sudden thought.

“I don’t think you need mention to Agatha how we obtained this information.”

“Of course not Herr Baron.”

\-----------*

Moloch and his companions looked at the Engines of Destruction that they had assembled. They were wheels within wheels, each a complicated mass of spinning cogs, all constantly in motion, glowing blue with orgone energy. Along the massive rims were a series of apertures like eyes; the sensors, muzzles and launch tubes of the terrible weapons. There were four Electric Wheels in all, and also a Controller for the operators, a separate mechanism consisting of four large chairs with control consoles arranged around a central column. The chairs all faced outwards, with their backs to the mechanism. Two contra-rotating eight-bladed propellers sprouted from the top of the Controller, enabling the device to fly.  

“All well and good,” asked Florence. “but how do we operate these things?” She looked around the Controller and pulled a lever with a large question mark on it; the most likely means of obtaining information. A hatch opened and a mechanical hand presented her with a large scroll. When she unrolled it, the only words written on it were ‘EAT ME”.

“Seriously?” Florence shrugged her shoulders. There didn’t seem to be a great deal of choice. “I just hope it doesn’t have too much theobromine. It upsets my digestion.” She closed her eyes and gobbled down the instruction manual.

“Oh! It tastes of honey!” she exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. She blinked. Then blinked again. “Ah I see! Yes, I See! So simple! What a diabolically clever control system! It’s all driven by these neural interfaces…” She indicated helmets at each of the control stations. “Moloch, you’ll be in overall charge so you need to put on this body suit with the Special Trousers.”

“Whatever you say dear,” said Moloch without interest and started to pull on the top part of the suit, an intricate gleaming metal breast plate covered with dials, lights and connectors. Florence started to link him in to the Controller.

“Once you’re connected, you should be able to … WHOA!!” When Moloch pulled on the Special Trousers, they lit up with a bright flickering red glowing aura, as though they were on fire. Moloch was unconcerned. “Ah yes, I see. Got it, thanks.” Florence realised that he was not talking to her.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” asked Snaug in concern.

“No. Should it?” replied Moloch.

Florence was relieved that the suit hadn’t harmed Moloch, but also concerned that he hadn’t reacted when his trousers had apparently burst into flames. The old Moloch would at least have screamed a little. Probably quite a lot. There was no time to worry about that now. She had to organise her pack, ready for the hunt.

“Right, we need four people to run the wheels from the Controller – one seat each. I’m driving, Moloch is on weapons and has overall command – you sit in that big seat the colour of sapphire. Saana, you are on target designation, and Snaug, you look after defence, okay? We should be able to run all four Wheels. They’ll move with us as I move the Controller.”

Fraulein Snaug gave an evil enthusiastic grin. “Lock and Load! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

They climbed into their respective positions, strapped themselves in and pulled on their helmets. Florence felt the neural interface engage and suddenly she was as one with the Electric Wheels. She started the engine behind her. The propellers began to turn and the Controller lifted them into the air with a sound like that of many waters. The Electric Wheels began to turn, the wheels moving within wheels. As they spun their electric blue glow intensified, until the wheels shone like gems of beryl caught in sunlight. They lifted into the air and moved into formation in front of the Controller, and as the Controller moved, so they moved with it.

Florence began experimenting with all the controls. No self-respecting engineer can rest easy until they’ve tried all the buttons, levers and switches.

“Hey,” she told Moloch, “these things can play music, externally through loudspeakers, to let our enemies know they’re about to die.”

“That’s nice dear,” replied Moloch.

“It goes against my stalking instinct, but I think a dramatic entrance would be in order, don’t you? Now, what shall we play?” She scanned through the playlist. “Hmm, lots of stuff by Tympanus Heterodyne, but I’ve always found his harmonies naïve and his melodies trite.” She scrolled down some more. “Ah, now this is much better. It’ll scare the Hell out of the nuns.” She engaged the wax cylinder and turned the external speakers up to full volume.

Sitting on his sapphire throne within the controller, Moloch experienced an abrupt disorientation, and suddenly he was no longer Moloch von Zinzer. His consciousness expanded to become part of the machine. He had no need to read dials or operate levers and buttons. He was a disembodied mind flying above the field of battle, and the Electric Wheels were ready to unleash death at his command. He could rain fire upon his enemies with a gesture. Where he looked, lightning would follow.

It may have been the link to the insane Engines of Destruction created by Ezekiel Heterodyne, who even the Old Masters considered to be a psychotic nutter; it may have been the stress of the moment. But I like to think that it was the suppressed rage and frustration and fear from all of Moloch’s life that came to the surface then. Always he had been the victim – the bullying by his elder brothers, especially Omar; the time on the road as a fugitive from the Baron, a life of constant fear as a prisoner in Castle Heterodyne, the years of stress working for the Heterodyne and then, above everything else, the anguish of his daughter’s death. And now he had a weapon in his control and an enemy to use it on who deserved to feel its full force. An insane rage rose up inside him and he felt as one with the terrible weapons at his command.

The Electric Wheels and the Controller swept forward, over the last ridge, into the Valley of Hamongog. Moloch looked down at his enemies. There were the Priests of the Brotherhood in their sinister black robes. The nuns, their faces set in hatred and disapproval. And the main bulk of the army, the fanatical multitude, brainwashed by guilt and hatred to believe that everything bad that had ever happened to them and their ancestors was the fault of other people and because of that they had the right to pull down everything that was bright and joyous in the World. Their features, twisted into insane hatred, were hidden behind their traditional black balaclavas. As befits an army created by a Spark, there were Fell Beasts and Abominations of Science scattered through the ranks. They all saw the Electric Wheels approaching and heard the ominous music that foretold their doom, and there was not one amongst them who did not quail at the Vengeance of the Heterodyne descending upon them. Moloch took the Electric Wheels in his hand and unleashed terrible, pitiless destruction.

Lightning leapt from the Electric Wheels to slay the enemies of the Heterodyne, blasting great swathes through them, like a scythe mowing wheat. Moloch reached into the depths of the wheels and filled his hands with burning coals and scattered them. Small points of light emerged from the eyes on the rims of spinning wheels and sped towards their designated targets, bursting into huge fireballs when they struck, the fire spreading out and flowing like liquid, seeking victims like a ravenous living thing, sticking and burning, resisting all attempts to extinguish it. Florence found the smell surprisingly pleasant.

As each target was destroyed, so Moloch was aware of the next enemy, be it some machine of war or a monster that had not had the sense to run and was attempting some desperate final defence. Not that running helped. He could hear, above the screams, and the earthquake roar of the Electric Wheels, and the booming of the homicidal music, maniacal insane triumphant laughter, worthy of the greatest of the Old Masters. He was not aware that he was the one laughing.

Some of the Pope’s army tried to resist, but it was futile. The Wheels and their Controller were surrounded by a defensive screen, a prismatic sphere of many colours, each defending against a different form of attack and all under the control of Fraulein Snaug. Missile weapons bounced harmlessly against forcefields. Death rays were deflected back to their points of origin to destroy those so impertinent as to defy the Heterodyne. Flying Abominations of Science dropped from the sky on contact with the coloured barriers, either poisoned or turned to stone (and in some cases, both at once). Snaug giggled with delight. She hadn’t had so much fun since she’d found that pneumatic stapler.

Saana scanned the field of destruction to prioritise Moloch’s targets. Amid the panic and carnage, she saw four familiar figures trying to find somewhere – anywhere – to hide. She manipulated the controls to mark them as ‘Friendly’ (actually, this being a creation of the Old Masters, the label was ‘Worth Keeping’). She did derive a certain amount of _schadenfreude_ in seeing the Jägers doing the running and screaming for a change.

It might have taken five minutes. It might have taken fifty. None of the wielders of the Electric Wheels could ever say with certainty how long the Battle of Hamongog Valley lasted. But suddenly there were no more targets. The Electric Wheels spun over an empty field of corpses and could find nothing else to kill. Florence flew the Controller to the end of the Valley and as the Controller moved, so the Electric Wheels moved with it. Before them lay the Secret Lair of the Pope, his ultimate citadel, a great reinforced dome beneath which lay his innermost Unholy sanctum. Florence saw a tiny figure on crutches standing on a high balcony; the Pope, staring in disbelief at the end of all his Power and watching his Nemesis descending upon him. He fled into the building.

Of course, any Secret Lair has many defences and those of the Pope would doubtlessly have been very effective against conventional airships or ground assault. Against the Electric Wheels they lasted a total of seventeen seconds. To Snaug’s annoyance one of the Pope’s etheric trebuchets did manage to make a nasty scratch on Electric Wheel Number Three before it was obliterated.

Florence positioned the four Wheels around the Secret Lair and the music finally came to an end. There was a brief pause for dramatic effect and then Moloch unleashed the lightning. The dome shuddered, then cracked like an egg shell.  The shattered reinforced concrete fragments were whirled away across the plane like fallen leaves by the tempest of the Electric Wheels, revealing the inner sanctum of the Pope within. Towering over the black basalt altar that had not seen daylight for a thousand years reared the great god of this Pope, that had taken root in the once fertile plane of Hamongog and been worshipped by Neanderthals and Cro-magnons before humans had walked the earth. The corrupt spirit of Evil, violence and destruction that had spread to every corner of this land and then sent its diaspora out around the World to blight the growth of humanity, to pull down all that was good, to creep inside the minds of men and women and tell them all they efforts were worthless. The spirit of despair that sought to defile all the achievements of mankind, to snuff out the circle of civilisation that had begun when the first campfire was lit, and plunge the World back into fear and ignorance and superstition and hopelessness. The Great Black Dog. It was an idol, a thing of polished stone and precious metals and gems, but it was also a thing alive, imbued with the spirit of hate and misery that sought to bring the ambitions of all mankind to naught, feeding on blighted lives and ruined dreams.

At its feet cowered the Pope, down on his shattered knees, begging his god to save him. In his last moments, I wonder if he realised the futility of asking for help from a god that hates hope.

Moloch looked at the two monsters in his sights and reached for the large red trigger that the Controller had placed in his mind. He had a vague idea, implanted by the machine, that this might overload the system and destroy the Electric Wheels and their Controller in a spectacular explosion. He didn’t care. With an insane cackle, he pulled the trigger and all the weapons of the Electric Wheels were unleashed at once onto the Black Dog and its Pope.

The Pope crumbled to ash that was swept to the four winds by the storm of energy without ever knowing what hit him. The Great Black Dog staggered beneath the blast that tore it asunder. It burned down to its obsidian skeleton. It tried to rise but another wave of power from the Heterodyne’s Engines of Destruction rolled over it and it melted to slag. The wreckage of the Secret Lair collapsed around it, burying what remained. The monstrous Black Dog that had crawled into the minds of humanity and eaten away their lives was gone forever. Its influence, and with it the teachings of its High Priest and all his works had been swept away in an instant and in that instant the World became a better place. The rain stopped and the clouds parted. A ray of sunshine illuminated the cursed ruins, as though the land that had lain under the shadow of Evil things for so long was celebrating its freedom.

To the East there were specks in the blue sky, suddenly revealed as the clouds rolled away. They grew rapidly into a fleet of airships. Finally, The Heterodyne and her air fleet had arrived, only to find that the party was already over. Agatha was angry when she saw the devastation below her. Not only because the Electric Wheels had been used without her permission (given the circumstances, she didn’t take any action against Moloch or his team, although she did become much more careful about the wording of equipment manifests). What really frustrated her was that ever since she had witnessed the Battle of Wamblecropt Valley (see _Agatha Heterodyne and the Pit_ ) she had been looking for an opportunity to try out her new Heavy Bomber _Sturzzeugs_ and now she found that she’d brought them all this way for nothing.

Florence circled round the field of carnage to find somewhere to land. She saw one hillock with a summit clear of pieces of dead bodies. She realised it was strange that after having killed so many people she found it disrespectful to walk over their charred and dismembered corpses. Four figures on the hilltop were waving to her. At first, she thought it might be a friendly greeting but as she got closer she saw the expression on their faces and realised they were desperately hoping she would recognise them, rather than adding them to the terrible massacre. She might have had issues with them in the past, but she was glad to see that the Jägers and Violetta were still alive. She made a perfect landing on the hilltop and as she landed so the Electric Wheels landed with her.

The four operators disentangled themselves from the Controller and stepped down on to the heather. Once they were sure that the Electric Wheels had definitely stopped turning Violetta and the Boyz walked over to greet their rescuers.

Moloch took off the Special Trousers and the breastplate of gleaming metal, and stood in the middle of the little group, dazed and drained, his wild exultation gone. He felt guilty, as though he had lost his temper and said things he regretted now he had calmed down. Perhaps, he thought, he should apologise for his behaviour, although he was not sure to whom or for what he should apologise. He was completely oblivious to the looks of adoration on the faces of Snaug, Saana and Violetta. His wife walked up to him, wagging her tail. She took a handkerchief from her pocket and lovingly wiped the spittle out of his beard.

“You were magnificent,” she told him.

Moloch slowly and uncertainly raised the steel shutters in his mind. He turned the locking wheels and swung open the water-tight hatch of his double-secret hiding cupboard. Blinking, he climbed out into the sunlight and looked at his friends. Although he had been working with them every day for months since Cassie’s murder, he felt as though this was the first time he had seen them for a long time. Florence put her arms around him and looked into his eyes. He tried to speak, but instead of words all that came were tears. Florence held him as he clung to her tightly and sobbed like a child.

“Welcome back, dear,” she whispered. “Welcome home.”

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are the creations and Studio Foglio, except Florence, who is inspired by Florence Ambrose from Mark Stanley's Freefall
> 
> A first draft was posted on the Jägerkin Forum. Tenks to my brudders und sisters vor de suggestions.


End file.
